The Journal
by xSn0wangel
Summary: The truth hurt. Even though I could write for hours, on any topic imaginable, I couldn't write happiness for myself. Gratsu One-shot!
When my grandfather passed away, my mother gave me my first journal, along with a few words of advice. "If you write it down," she said as she set the small black book in my hands, "it's easier to move on."

Although I filled its many blank pages long ago, the journal still occupies a special place on my bookshelf alongside several other, once wordless, companions. I guess that it doesn't matter how many lines I fill or doodles I scribble, there's always something else waiting to flow from my pen. Sometimes it feels like I have endless bouts of inspiration that I just need to tap into, so I open my hardcover book and get to work.

Sometimes I just catalogue my daily life, my opinion on the current weather or season, how my seemingly never-ending classes are going, and whatever my friends having going on. I'm not the kind of person that needs to express myself so it's mostly critiques or pointless blabbering. But occasionally, I write about what I wish was happening whether it could even happen or not. Not to me necessarily, it could be about anyone.

For instance, I sit by this guy on the train every day. Whenever I get on for my half hour trip to school, he's already sitting right next to the door as if he could barely bring himself to get on in the first place. In fact, he looks downright sick every single time I've see him but I figure it's got to be something like motion sickness because he seems okay when he stumbles off at the stop right before mine.

I've never spoken to him or even heard him talk like on the phone or something, but I could picture exactly what he would sound like as I wrote him into one of my action-packed stories.

His cherry blossom colored hair and deep green eyes made him the perfect protagonist in my mind considering they always need something special to set them apart from everyone else. I didn't have to know anything about him to fit him into the role I'd created just for him. Beneath the sickly look of his skin, laid the strong heart of a hero! He was a true courageous fighter that didn't back down from any challenge! You wouldn't be able to tell all that by just looking at him, yet part of me wondered how much of it was true. Not that he'd ever talk to me.

He wasn't the only person I'd randomly detailed an entire back story for, but he certainly frequented the pages of my latest journal. Maybe it was just because he was a constant part of my daily routine, or perhaps there was something about him that inspired me to expand any project starring him.

My life wasn't crazy, but it didn't have to be. All I had to do was pick up a pen and I could go anywhere, everyone around me could become extraordinary. The real world blurred as it slipped away, like the buildings that flew by the windows of the train as I rode to school.

However, when faced with sudden tragedy, I was forced back into reality. When my mother, my cornerstone, was gone before her time, I couldn't help but desert writing all together. Every time I picked up a pen and stared down at the blank pages of my journal, I could only imagine her heartfelt smile when she welcomed me home each evening and her kind eyes even when she lectured me about spending too much time in my room.

And although I'd tried so hard to heed her words and write something…anything, I just couldn't when faced with the cold truth.

That even though I could write for hours, on any topic imaginable, I couldn't write happiness for myself.

Weeks flew by as each day became a monotonous blur of reality.

Until one morning on the train, there was an announcement that our departure from one of the stations would be delayed three minutes. I wasn't really bothered by the news considering I usually arrived pretty early to my first class, however, I wasn't prepared for the cheer from the pink-haired guy sitting next to me.

"This is awesome!" he shouted as he stood up and waved his arms around in some kind of odd happy dance. I couldn't help but smile at the sheer craziness of it considering he was miraculously healed or something. Plopping down again, he actually turned to me with a wide smile. However, it dropped off his face as he stared at the empty space in my lap.

"What happened to your book?" he asked with what seemed like real interest. I didn't answer him because I wasn't a little too surprised to hear his actual voice after picturing what it would sound like for so long. Honestly I'd never realized that the guy had ever paid any attention to me in all the days that we'd sat together, so that fact that he'd noticed I usually wrote in my journal was relatively unexpected.

Apparently he grew tired of waiting for me to reply.

"Hello? I know you're the guy with the diary, 'cuz you sit by me every day."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"It's a journal."

The way he smirked made me want to punch him.

"Yeah, yeah well anyways, how are you supposed to draw me the one time I don't feel like I have to puke, when you don't have your journal?" He definitely said the word journal like he was mocking me, but I let it slide this time. After all, this was the first time we'd ever spoken.

"It's in my bag," I began as I stared down at the forgotten backpack sitting on my feet. Even though I didn't have the heart to write in it, I couldn't just leave it at home.

"Wait, you…" my eyes widened slightly as I trailed off. "Have you seen what I've written?"

He shrugged as he leaned down, like it was nothing out of the ordinary, and dug through my bag until he found the black book.

"It's not like I see much when I'm nearly passed out, but I have seen you drawing me before."

My chest felt a little lighter at his declaration. At least he hadn't read what I'd written him into.

Randomly opening the journal to a blank page, he handed a pen to me, though I didn't see him grab one, with a smile.

"Okay, now take a good look since it's not going to last long."

"But I-"

"And don't make my eyes bigger than half my face! I'm Japanese, not an anime character."

I wasn't sure if I could do it and I sure as hell didn't want to try but when he was right in front of me…

He had round cheeks slightly pinched with dimples from the smile stretched across his face, sun-kissed skin dotted with freckles right across his nose, a single silver stud shines from one of his earlobes, and I wondered why I'd never noticed any of it before.

Then the train lurched forwards again and he slumped back over. It seemed that the moment had ended until I recalled the weight of the journal resting in my lap.

The white expanse of paper mocked me as I studied it.

I didn't want to move on.

Jolting as a weight landed on my shoulder, I looked over and saw pink hair resting against me. It was an oddly comforting gesture from a perfect stranger.

But moving on didn't have to mean forgetting, I decided, in fact, maybe that's why my mother had given me the journal in the first place. As long as I wrote things down, I wouldn't forget them.

Considering the boy nearly laying on top of me, his face clear and crisp in my mind, I clicked the pen open, pressed its tip to the blank page, and began to write.

L7L7L7L7

Life hadn't dealt me a very good hand. The amount of heartbreak I'd felt was enough to last a lifetime, yet I was only nineteen. Not even of legal age and already alone in the world.

Still, I wasn't the kind of person who dwelled on the past. The future was always right there in front of me like the sun coming up over the horizon, all I had to do was reach out and grab it! I was positive that I'd get there too, if not today, then certainly tomorrow! Occasionally I would get caught up in _what if's_ but if nothing else, Natsu Dragneel had no regrets!

Maybe that's why I was so interested in him. The thoughtful scrunching of his eyebrows as he stared down at the black book resting on his crossed legs. He was always dressed sharply though he couldn't have been much older than me. It seemed like he had everything put together on the outside, but in reality, I could tell he had his head in the clouds. The proof was right there, the endless pages of words and sketches were always in his grip.

Even so, he's the one that sat by me every day. Considering there's no way for me to strike up a conversation when I'm on any mode of transportation, I figured that, that would be the closest we'd ever get. It's not like we went to the same school, or lived right by each other. The only thing we had in common was the overlap of our morning commute.

Which is why it was kind of surprising when I noticed him drawing me one day. I couldn't make a lot of it out since I was so dizzy, but I could tell by the number of times his eyes drifted over to me that he was using me as a model.

Perhaps that's why it was so surprising when he suddenly stopped. It had become routine to see him scribbling away each morning.

The first time it happened, I just thought he'd forgotten his book at home or something, although I wasn't sure how that could happen when it was always in his hands. The next time after that, I wondered if he'd lost it, but when I saw a similar looking book poking out of his bag one day, I was even more confused.

I think it all started coming together when I saw the pinched look on his face when he stepped onto the train one morning. He clearly had something on his mind, but when he sat down next to me, he simply sat there while not even looking out the windows. I wanted to say something to break that blank stare that stretched over his face, however the train started moving away from the platform and I instantly became incoherent.

Then came the day that the railway was running behind and I was so ecstatic that I danced with joy!

It was almost too easy to look over at him and feign confusion about his missing book, because I could see it.

The future was right there, all I had to do was reach out and grab it!

Because people like us sometimes get lost in the clouds and need someone to point us towards the sun again.

People like us should stick together.

When my stop arrived, he ripped the page he'd been working on out of his journal, folded it up, and tucked it into my hand as I clambered to my feet. I managed a half-smile for him before rushing off the train before the doors could close.

As I walked, my heart skipped a beat in my chest in anticipation. Sure, I didn't really know much about the guy, but I wanted to. My motion sickness had always been what was stopping me from talking to him all this time, but whatever this piece of paper held, I knew it was going to change things.

Maybe that only meant that he'd start writing again, or maybe it meant something more.

Taking a deep breath, I unfolded the paper in my hands.

L7L7L7L7


End file.
